Glee Me Once, Drabble Me Twice
by Jean815
Summary: Every chapter will be a drabble with no correlation to the chapter before or after it. Mostly Faberry or Brittana. Rated M for situations that will be stated for each chapter at the beginning.
1. Of the Sun and the Star

So this story will actually be a random drabble every chapter. This one is exactly 100 words. Other will be more or less I'm not sure, but they will mostly be either Faberry or Brittana. No idea how often I'll update, but most probably won't even make sense. It's just somewhere for me to throw the things I type within a few minutes.

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Warning: Bittersweet  
Pairing: Faberry  
Words: 100

**Of the Sun and the Star**

"We can't be together anymore,' I whisper.

"But I love you, isn't that all that should matter?" Hands around my waist, warm brown eyes slowly filling with tears.

"You're a star, y'know? You shine brighter than everyone else. One day, you'll have your name up in lights and I'll be watching." I smile at the other girl.

"But you're my star! My sun! I need you to live!" Tears. Nonsensical blabber. Nothing matters.

"The sun is a lone star." I manage a faint smile. "You'll find your own star one day, my little gold star. Be happy. I love you."


	2. We Are Who We Are

Warning: Character death.  
Pairing: Brittana.  
Words: 207

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**We Are Who We Are**

Like Atlas, I have the weight on my shoulders.

Like Apollo and Artemis, every day I carry out my duty. Whether I tire of it or whether I do or do not want to do it, I have no choice. It is my duty.

Like Dionysus, I revel in drunkenness and madness. Disorder is my name, and pleasure is what I live for.

She is my Eros, causing me desire and turning my flame of lust into a bonfire of love.

She is like Demeter, giving to me and bringing life to all she approaches.

She is like Athena, wise and brave, afraid of nothing, not even me.

But.

Like Hades, I live in the Underworld and bring death though I do not wish for it. It was all I deserved and all I caused.

And now she is gone, and all I have left is the weight on my shoulders and my duty to live. All I have left is the memory of her blonde hair and her blue eyes.

So I do, because we are who we are and they won't leave me alone and they won't let me bring destruction to the person I want to the most: me.

Because she is still gone.


	3. Bed Sheets

Warning: Rated R  
Pairing: Brittana, Faberry, slight Quintana  
Words: 727

This is to kind of hold you off while I finish chapter 13 of Mad World. Just a short little nothing meant to make you laugh. Review?

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When Brittany convinced Santana to invite Rachel and Quinn over to help her with her homework, Santana didn't think they'd actually _do_ any homework. She figured they'd just end up slacking off as usual.

She was wrong.

Brittany had ended up downstairs on the couch, watching The Lion King, and Santana had ended up on her lap. Rachel and Quinn, on the other hand, had actually opted to stay upstairs and help Brittany clean up her essay, which was nice of them. Except now Brittany was poking her in her side telling her to offer them some pizza for dinner.

It had never been said that Santana could resist the blonde's pout, and this time was no exception. Sighing and grumbling, she nonetheless dragged her feet upstairs to her room where the pair are. As she walks, she remembers that they haven't figured out what they're going to wear for Puck's Halloween party yet. She'd gone as the devil one too many times and it was time for a change. Maybe she'd go as Hades this time.

Santana first gets suspicious when she hears a light thump from her room from where she's standing on the landing. She notes with growing horror that her bedroom door is _closed_ and she nearly implodes when she thinks she hears someone that is quite possible Quinn fucking Fabray _moan._ Oh no they are fucking not doing that in her room.

It takes her one and a half seconds to cross over to her door and another half a second to start slamming on it with her fist. She hears a loud curse and then she almost accidentally slams her fist into Quinn's face when the door opens slightly.

Quinn's golden hair is rumpled and she definitely looks like she's just been fucked. What makes it more obvious is the fact that she's only covered in a white sheet that barely covers the top of her chest and her shoulders are bare. Her face is bright red and she looks mortified. "Hey, Santana,' she tries to say as casually as she can, as though her girlfriend isn't probably naked behind her somewhere.

"What the _fuck,_ Fabray?" Santana hisses, trying not to let her eyes take the path they kind of want to down Quinn's front, because damn, that sheet is not hiding much. _Her_ sheet, she reminds herself, her bed sheet that the midget and Juno had most definitely soiled. She was going to need a new bed. She's angry and she's not turned on by Quinn Fabray's probably naked body under _her bed sheets that they have ruined._

"I'm kind of sorry, except I'm not really but… Jesus, Santana, you couldn't possibly stare at my face while you're being mad at me, could you?" Quinn tries not to smirk.

Santana's eyes dart up and she inwardly kills herself. With pure force of will she forces her rising blush back down. "Fuck you too, bitch. Get you and your damn girlfriend dressed, out of my room and downstairs so I can fucking kill you." With that, Santana turns around and storms down the stairs.

"You could always join us!" Quinn calls out to her before quickly shutting and locking the door just in case Santana changes her mind and rushes back in to strangle her.

Stony-faced, Santana sits back down onto the couch.

"Did you see Quinn and Rach having sex?" Brittany asks, her eyes still glued to the television.

"Thank god, no." Santana grimaces, ignoring the fact that the thought of it kind of makes her a little bit horny. No one with eyes could deny that Quinn was a hot piece of ass, and Rachel, well once you got past the argyle, had the most amazing legs Santana has ever seen. Other than Brittany's, of course.

Santana groans and sidles up against Brittany. The cheerleader grins and pulls her in for a deep kiss. "Fuck,' Santana mumbles, 'I hate Quinn and I hate Rachel. Ugh." And then Brittany shuts her up with a hand slowly slipping up her shirt.

20 minutes later, when she goes back to her room, the door is unlocked, the room empty, her bed sheet missing and the windows are open. There's a piece of paper on her bed that has one word written on it. 'Sorry.' It looks like the midget's handwriting.

"Stupid fuckers."


	4. Beep

**Title: **Beep**  
Warning**: Character death  
**Pairing**: Faberry  
**Words**: 240  
**Note**: Just so all of you know, these drabbles are always pretty short, and generally depressing. Apologies.

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**120**

_Sometimes you thought that all your relationship consisted of was apologies. You apologized to each other all the time. 'I'm sorry I…', 'I didn't mean to…'. It just went on and on and on. No matter how many times you tried to keep from hurting her, you couldn't stop. And she couldn't help but hurt you back. It was destructive. Sometimes you think that you'll kill each other before you turn 40._

**100**

_But then sometimes you just stopped and thought, hey, no, apologies weren't all you said to each other. It wasn't like you were hitting each other, or even causing emotional scars. 'I'm sorry I forgot to turn the heater on' wasn't that bad, was it? And christ, the way she looked at you… You'd forgive her for anything. And you know it went both ways. Your love was more than petty mistakes. You loved each other. And that was enough._

**80**

_And then this. You'd apologized so many times. But nothing. 'I'm sorry I wasn't on set that day. I'm sorry I had a job interview I had to go for. I'm sorry I didn't say 'I love you' before I left our apartment that day. I'm sorry I thought there were things more important than you.'_

**60**

'_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please come back. Don't leave me.'_

**40**

'_Please don't leave me.'_

**20**

'_I can't live without you.'_

**0**

'_I miss you.'_


	5. Miserable At Best

Title: Miserable At Best  
Warning: Sad  
Pairing: Faberry  
Words: 158

You notice me watching you. Of course you notice. Attention is the one thing you'd never miss seeing. You pass it off as me being less antagonistic than usual and a little more appreciative of your talent. Your exact words.

I smile ironically at you and don't quite reply. You smile back uncertainly and walk away.

If only you knew, I think as you walk away, your small hand clasped in his gargantuan one. But even if you did know, what would you do?

No, you're happy with him, even though given another week he's going to let you down and then come back again before the process repeats because it's the game the two of you thrive off and all I can do is watch. I would say I missed my chance, but in reality I never had a chance at all.

It's not a competition, not really, but I lost anyway, when I let him win.


	6. Recipe For Heartbreak

Title: Recipe for heartbreak  
Pairing: Faberry  
Words: 241

Take one brunette with the voice of an angel and a blonde with a bleak past and unforeseeable future. Place in a pot and lightly boil for a few minutes until soft, but do not let them mix together!

Lightly salt a typical boy and marinate in selfish and ego before throwing into the pot. Mix thoroughly. The ingredients will begin to smell like jealousy, regret and tears. This is normal, but if one's taste leans towards the exotic, then lightly sprinkle with pregnancy. Only lightly so as to leave an aftertaste, but not so much as to be particularly memorable.

To add a bittersweet taste to the mixture, press some lemons and family angst together and add abandonment as necessary. Let it settle.

For added zing to your heartbreak, don't forget to add several teaspoons of judgmental teenagers and allow it to simmer over a small fire for 15 minutes before allowing to cool in the pot.

At the very end, as the mixture begins to harden, use a spoon made out of broken promises to shape it into whatever is easier to swallow, perhaps lies. Leave the mixture in the pot until it turns hard and leaves behind a black stain on the bottom before removing. The stain is the scar that will never fade.

Voila! Your heartbreak can now be served with a side dish of future possibilities and possible futures to prevent the palate from withering away.


	7. Speakeasy

**Title**: Speakeasy  
**Pairing**: Faberry  
**Words**: 278  
**Note**: From someone's prompt on Tumblr

The room was dimly lit, with most of the light placed near strategic, hidden exits. No one came here for clarity anyway. Quinn tugged at the collar of her white shirt and loosened her black tie; the nights were getting warmer but of course they couldn't open their doors to let the air in. Their usual customers were huddled around the tables, and their new customers were slightly shell-shocked, not sure what to ask for. She started them off easy, with some of the whiskey her ma and pa made themselves. Light stuff, charge 'em relatively low, get 'em drunk and raise the price. It was pretty good business, so long as they didn't get caught.

One of the customers had caught her eye though. The woman had walked in alone after giving the correct password, and Quinn had frowned at her. She was wearing what was clearly an expensive coat, upon the removal of she revealed a black dress cut high up her perfect tanned thighs. The black heels she wore were at least three inches high. Her hair was brown, her lips luscious. Quinn licked her lips unconsciously.

Approaching her, Quinn asked harshly, "Little lady, you wanted to attract half the bulls on the force after you coming here in this little get-up? We're not really in a good part of town, ya know." The woman looked her up and down and and grinned slyly. "To be honest,' Quinn blinked; her voice was throaty and made her sweat, 'I came here to attract _you._" The brunette winked and sashayed her way to the bar. Quinn swallowed hard and followed her with her eyes and her feet.


End file.
